


Carpe Diem

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, POV First Person, Pre-Slash, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Help comes from an unexpected arrival as, waiting for his flight to board, Will questions his intelligence at having accepted Ethan's offer to return to field work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpe Diem

**Author's Note:**

> Self beta'd.
> 
> Narrated by Will.
> 
> ... And, okay, yes... I did happen to write this in an airport! ;-)
> 
> First in a number of stand alone, completely unrelated short fics / ficlets that I wrote A) because I was on holiday and, B) because I kind of admire those that can write short stories and wanted to try my luck at giving it a go myself...

==========  
Carpe Diem  
By TalithaX  
==========

Proving that you can no more control self doubt than you can catch smoke in the palm of your hand, it's not until I've cleared customs and am waiting for my flight to board that I start to question...

...Well, just what the hell it is I think I'm doing.

Why?

Why am I here? More to the point, why am I - voluntarily - putting myself through this again?

It wasn't even as though I disliked being an analyst. In fact, sedentary though it may have been, I actually quite liked it. Running around like a mad thing dodging bullets and God alone knows what else might be all well good - and, no, I'm not specifically thinking of Ethan here, although... if the cap fits and all that - but, I don't know, having to rely on both my brain and logic just made for a nice change. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against field work. In fact, I admire those agents - and, again, no... I'm trying not to think of Ethan here either - who have made being in the field their life's work. After all, it takes a special sort of person to put themselves under that sort of 'the weight of the world is on my shoulders' (in most cases, literally, at that) strain on a day in day out basis.

I'm...

... Not one of those people though.

Sure, I have the skills, and I work as hard on maintaining my fitness as any field agent, but...

It's just not in my blood.

Not anymore, anyway.

It was once.  Hell, once upon a time, albeit in my own, far more circumspect sort of way, I was all for it.  Maybe it was youth.  Maybe it was simply a case of 'look at me, I'm good enough to be an IMF agent, therefore I must be immortal' stupidity.  Maybe... I just didn't know any better.  I thrived on the adrenaline though, back in the day.  It made me feel alive, and the successful completion of a mission never failed to, however momentarily, leave me feeling on top of the world.

I was... useful.  What I was doing made... a difference.  I was... good at what I did, and, most importantly, I had faith in myself. Then, however, came Croatia.

I didn't listen to the nagging voice in the back of my head, and an innocent woman died.

I...

...Failed.

If I'd spoken up... If I'd stayed with the wife and left the husband to my men...

If I hadn't been so Goddamn loyal to the Powers That Be and had listened to my sixth sense...

If I'd been any sort of an agent...

It doesn't matter that I know now that it was all a lie, a carefully planned and executed ruse, as, simply put, the damage had been done.

I'd failed.  I was a failure.

And I couldn't bear the thought of ever being responsible for another's life ever again.  It... Having me out in the field, it was just far too great a risk.  Clearly I wasn't up to it and it was in everyone's best interests that I was never placed in a similar situation ever again.

It hurt.  I can't deny that both Croatia and its aftermath hurt me.  It hurt me a lot.  I felt as though I'd lost - even though I knew I didn't have anyone to blame for my reaction other than myself - everything I'd so long taken for granted.  My sense of... self, or identity, if you like.  I'd been in the field for so long that suddenly having it ripped from me was like losing a limb or loved one.  I was... empty... without it.  Empty, and... lost.

What I also was though was... safe.  I was safe from feeling as though I held a life in my hands and that was just a... relief.  A huge relief to me actually.  I could go into the office and lose myself in data and intel for as many hours as I could stay awake, and it was just... safe.

While it would be something of a lie to say I was happy, I nonetheless thought it a small price to pay to be effectively stress free.  I did my research, wrote my reports, made my presentations, and, if the situation called for it, accompanied the Secretary to meetings.  It was a living and, in my own way, I liked to think I was still proving useful, that what I was doing still helped to make a difference.

Then came... Moscow.

Followed by Dubai and Mumbai.

To put it another way, then came...

Ethan Hunt.

The, and why beat around the proverbial bush here, force of nature that is Ethan Hunt.

I told myself that - succumbing to a panic attack and simply rocking back and forth wouldn't achieve anything - I didn't have a choice, that as Ghost Protocol had been called and every single IMF agent had been disavowed, it was my... duty... to play my part to the best of my ability.  I didn't want to, especially seeing as it was leaving me face to face with Ethan ( who I'd very much hoped to go to my grave without ever meeting again), but, in all honesty, what else could I do?  I had to, regardless both of how reluctant I may have been, and all the internal demons that may have been roused, do my bit.

And, with a few minor hiccups along the way, I did.

I held it together, I did what was expected of me, and... It worked.  We were a thrown together team of incredibly different personalities, but - somehow - we gelled against the odds and were able to successfully defeat Cobalt.  Quite frankly I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been a part of it, but... I was.  I was an important part of the team and it worked.

It was almost, my all consuming desire to avoid Ethan at all costs aside, like old times.  The adrenaline, the sense of purpose and of... belonging.  Belonging not only to a team but also to the bigger picture.  It would be a stretch to say I enjoyed myself - and the less said about Benji, magnets, and jumping, the better - but I... didn't hate it.

I didn't hate it at all.

In fact, I even quite liked working with Jane and Benji.  Ethan, I... would have liked working with if only I wasn't so - convinced he'd hate my guts if he knew my sad and sorry secret - wary of him and always on my guard in his presence. Although part of me can't help but think he's a little on the reckless side, he's an excellent agent who I'd have no hesitation in trusting with my life.  It's what, I honestly think, he's born to do as he's just a natural at it.  At... taking charge, thinking outside of the box, not hesitating, taking the risks no one else in their right mind would even contemplate, showing no fear... I may not want to be him, but I certainly admire him.

Actually, no.  I lie.  Right now, as I'm sure it would put paid to the gnawing sense of doubt and dread growing ever steadily in the back of my mind, I do kind wish I was him.  To Ethan, this would be just setting off on another mission, not cause for an incredible attack of the 'just what the fuck am I doing here's'...

Just...

Why did I agree to join his team and return to field work?

Was it the thought of working with the same team again?

Had learning that I wasn't responsible for the death of his wife gone to my head and, light headed with relief, I wasn't really thinking and had simply agreed because it was easier than coming up with a viable reason to refuse?

Whatever it was, it was stupid.

I was stupid.

Hell, I am stupid.

Stupid for thinking I can put myself through this again.

Stupid... for... putting myself through this again.

I just don't, and I can't for the life of me see it any differently, belong here.  This isn't me anymore.  I should be safely ensconced behind a desk and focused solely on a world of intel, not here, waiting for my flight to start boarding while I slowly unravel and doubt my every move.

Everywhere I look I see people that I feel... disconnected... from.  The eager, happy ones, excited to be jetting off to a foreign location.  The elderly couples -- travelling to either visit children who have long flown the coop, or possibly to simply stave off boredom, or for no other reason than they now can -- in their comfortable clothes and with their neck pillows clutched tightly on their lap.  The nervous travellers, surreptitiously popping pills as they sit fidgeting in the chairs and drumming their fingers on their thighs.  The seasoned travellers, with their bland, disinterested expressions and complete lack of interest in those around them.  The professionals who are so caught up in their own sense of self importance that they're plugged into their laptop, or tablet, or smart phone, and are industriously tap,tap, tapping away while they still can.

They're all so... oblivious.

They don't know what I know.

They don't know the possible danger they're both blithely and innocently flying into.

They don't know that I could end up being all that stands between them and, quite literally, all hell breaking loose.  They especially don't know that if this does end up being the case, that they could well be doomed.

In a way, I'm almost envious of their blissful ignorance.

What if I... Relapse?  Freak out?  Lose the fucking plot completely?  End up making Ethan rue the day he ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on me, let alone question his momentary lapse of reason in inviting me to join the team?

... Worst of all, what if something I do results in someone dying?

I'm not a coward, and my own personal safety doesn't particularly weigh heavily on my mind, but, having failed (or, as it turned out, simply believing that I'd failed) before, it just makes me doubt myself.  I don't want it to, I mean, God knows I don't want to be sitting here questioning, well, everything, but I just can't help it.  I'm just not the same person, the same... agent... that I was before Croatia, and I don't know if I ever will be again.

I shouldn't have said yes.

I should have thanked Ethan for thinking highly enough of me to even ask, and then simply... declined.  He doesn't need the, I'm fairly positive, inevitable disappointment, and I don't need the niggling - or, alternatively, all-consuming – doubt.

Not wanting to turn to the iPad in order to kill time because I know that if I retrieve it from my bag I'll only start reading over the intel relating to the mission for the umpteenth time - and, oddly enough, it never looks any better regardless of how many times I've gone through it - and wishing that I'd had the forethought to bring a book with me, I'm contemplating making my way back out through the boarding gate in order to hunt down a newspaper when I'm surprised by someone flopping heavily down into the seat next to me.  Startled, not only by the fact that anyone would want to sit next to me and my blank, 'the lights are on but no one's home' expression that I just know I have to be sporting, but also by their... enthusiastic... arrival, I jerk my head around to check them out, and...

Shit.

It's Ethan.

Ethan, who was booked on an earlier flight, and who should already be in Cairo and helping Benji set up base.

Why?

I mean, what's he doing here?  Don't tell me he - already - doesn't trust me to successfully do as I'm instructed?

Honestly, this just keeps getting better and better, it really does.

"Fancy seeing you here," Ethan comments, it just has to be said, with a supremely unbothered smile as he stretches his legs out in front of him and, for reasons known solely to himself, gives my knee a quick pat.

While it's on the tip of my tongue to retort with something alone the lines of 'where did you expect me to be?', I settle instead for pulling my knee away and muttering, "What are you doing here?  I thought you were meant to be on site already."

"Missed my flight," Ethan replies as, shrugging, his smile broadens.

"You... missed your flight?"  While, granted, I understand the... concept... of not getting to the airport on time or whatever, what I am, however, struggling to grasp is how Ethan can sound so perfectly blasé about it.  This, after all, is a mission - not simply a holiday to Egypt to see the damn pyramids.  Ignoring the fact that I don't really want to be here, I'm still not only here but, wanting to ensure I got to the airport in time, have been so for close to two hours.

"I missed my flight," Ethan confirms with another shrug as he continues to smile happily at me.  "Stop looking so mortified.  It's not like it was the only flight and, besides, look, I'm here now."

"Hmph." I grunt.  I just can't help it.  "You may as well just come out and say it," I mutter, scowling at him.

His smile slipping ever so slightly, Ethan gives me a curious look.  "Say what?"

"That you're here checking up on me," I state flatly as I force myself to meet his gaze.

"Checking up on you?" Ethan echoes with what may well be a frown of confusion.  That is, if it was anybody else looking at me like that I'd give them the benefit of the doubt and call it a confused look.  With Ethan however, given that I already know him to possesses some fairly impressive acting skills, he's just as likely to be faking the confusion as it is to be real.  In fact, just call me either suspicious or paranoid, but I'm fairly positive it just has to be feigned.  Let's face it, why else would he be here?

"Admit it," I retort.  "You're really here to check up on me, to... see if I'm really going through with it."

"Anyone ever tell you that you have an over active, if not... paranoid... imagination?" Ethan murmurs, giving me a curious look from beneath an arched eyebrow.  "I missed my flight.  Shit, as they say, happens.  Whether you believe it or not, I'm not actually here to provide a... babysitting service to you."

He's right.  I don't believe him.  Just... Again, in all seriousness, why else would he be here?  I'm an unknown, somewhat... flaky... entity to him, so of course he's here to check up on me and to see if his apparent trust in me isn't a stupid mistake.  What's more, if I was in his shoes I'd probably be doing exactly the same thing.  Not, however, that I have any desire to say this, or anything for that matter, to him.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Ethan queries with both a roll of his eyes and a quick shake of his head.  "Look, Brandt... Actually..."  Pausing, he looks me in the eye and goes back to smiling that unbothered smile of his.  "Brandt?  William?  Will?  Bill?  Billy?"

Confused, and I'm fairly certain Ethan's soon going to be of the opinion that it doesn't take much to cause me to stare blankly at him, as to what he's getting at, I shrug and murmur the only response - other than 'what the fuck?' - that comes to mind. "Pardon?"

"You know, that's the first thing you ever said to me," he replies, smirking.  "If you need your hearing checked, perhaps you'd better just tell me now so that I can see to it being arranged."

"Rest assured I most definitely do not need my hearing checked," I mutter indignantly, "and, for what it's worth, yes, I do remember that it was the first thing I said to you.  Maybe I'm old fashioned that way, but I'm prone to defaulting to... politeness... in the face of... rudeness..."

Ethan laughs and, because he obviously thinks he can, that there's no reason I'd have an issue with it, gives my thigh a quick pat.  "Rudeness, huh?" he murmurs.  "Sorry.  But I did, you know, have other things on my mind at the time."

"So did I," I reply, knowing that, now that the whole Croatia 'thing' is out in the open, I don't need to elaborate.  "But, whatever...  I suppose, what's done is done and all that."

"That it is," Ethan agrees, giving me what could well be a look of understanding.  "So, back to the very important matter at hand, what do you prefer?"

"Huh?"  As in...?  I'm sure Ethan makes sense to Ethan.  Maybe he even makes sense to Jane and Benji.  Hell, for all I know it's just me that struggles to follow him.  Either way, at the risk of making him question my intellect, I have no idea what he's wanting to know from me here.

Laughing again, Ethan returns his hand to my thigh and this time, instead of simply patting it, just... leaves it there.  "So much for thinking you were going to be the smart one of the team," he teases as I stare down at his - over familiar, yet oddly... comforting - hand as it rests, stark against the charcoal of my suit pants, on my leg.  "I like you, I really do," he continues with another chuckle, "and it's because I like you that I want, unless it's what you prefer, of course, to get out of the habit of calling you by your surname.  So...  What will it be? William?  Or..."

"Will," I interrupt as, the penny finally clunking heavily into place, I realise that I'm curiously touched that Ethan would even think to ask. I can't deny that I was aware that I was the only member of the team he referred to by surname, and, okay, I didn't particularly like it very much, but... Whatever, you know?  Still erring on the side of... caution... when it comes to Ethan though, I was hardly ever going to say anything to him about it.  "Will," I repeat with a tentative smile, "I'm good with Will."

"Then Will it is."  Returning, albeit far more naturally, my smile, Ethan removes his hand from my thigh only to grab my right one, the one closest to him, and squeeze it tightly.

Taken aback by this peculiar turn of events, I make to pull my hand free of Ethan's but he doesn't let go and I quickly realise that I'll only end up making something of a scene if I force the issue.  "So, not only are you checking up on me, but you're also making sure I don't escape," I murmur somewhat breathlessly as I glance down pointedly at our hands.  "While I'll admit to have been having my doubts, seriously, Ethan, you can take my word that I'm not a flight risk..."

His expression closing over slightly, Ethan shrugs and casually entwines his fingers around mine.  "Is this making you uncomfortable?" he queries in a deceptively... disinterested... tone of voice.  "As I kind of need to know as Team Leader, if you're homophobic, I..."

"Hypocrisy being one of those things I tend to make a point of avoiding at all costs," I state, cutting Ethan off as I reluctantly accept I'm effectively in the process of coming out to him, "trust me, I'm... far... from being homophobic..."

"In that case, for God's sake, stop looking as though you're either being molested or forced into something against your will," Ethan replies as looking,  unless my imagination is seriously playing warped tricks on me, far more relaxed than he did only a moment ago, he goes back to smiling at me.  "Just... If it helps, pretend that it's part of your cover or something..."

Pretend that having Ethan holding my hand in a boarding gate is the most natural, expected, thing in the world to me?  Sure.  Not a problem.  A bit of warning might have been nice, and, really, I'd love to know what's currently going through his head, but... Okay.  He can hold my hand if that's what he feels as though he either wants or... needs... to do.  "I...”

"Perhaps it's just my hand you don't want to be holding," Ethan interrupts with a small frown.  "Will... If I'm making you uncomfortable then..."  Trailing off, he starts to loosen his grip on my hand just as I realise that I've not only already adapted to the feel of his hand around mine but that I also rather... like... it.  "Uh... I'm sorry..."

"There's nothing to apologise for," I declare, smiling at Ethan as I further make my point by tightening my hand around his in order to keep it in place.  "You surprised me, yeah, but, I... Uh... I like it..."  I also feel better, more calmer, somehow ever since Ethan took my hand in his and don't know how, or if I should even try, to say it.  Ever since Croatia I've kept myself to myself and to have someone, regardless of their reasons or how innocently it might be, simply hold my hand, to want to... touch... me, it... It's just... nice.  Reassuring, even.

"Good."  Looking relieved, Ethan settles back in his seat and, completely oblivious to the disapproving looks we're now getting from the overly groomed man in his mid twenties opposite us, winks at me.  "Now that we're on the same page I'm hoping you won't blow a fuse when I tell you that I... may... have ensured that we're sitting together on the plane..."

"You... may... have, huh?" Maybe I should feel as though I'm being taken over, and maybe he really is still only going out of his way to check up on me, but... I like it.  I really do.  I like that Ethan's here and I like that he... genuinely... seems to, well, like me.  It could just be an act, but if it is it's a good one and, okay, I'm buying it.

"Mmm... Maybe I missed my flight not because I wanted to babysit you but because I simply wanted to... see... you," Ethan murmurs, his expression turning momentarily serious.  "Will... I know you still doubt yourself, but... you're not to, okay?  You didn't fail in Croatia and you've really got to believe me when I say that you were imperative in terms of taking Cobalt down.  You're an excellent agent and I not only already trust you but I'm also looking forward to getting to know you better.  So...  Think positively and... buckle up for the ride..."

Think positively and buckle up for the ride, he says.  Just like that.  Quash the doubt and live in the moment.

And, you know something? As I both look at Ethan as he gazes back at me and feel the comforting pressure of his hand in mind, I know that he's right.

That, and that I can.

I'm here because I want to be.  I'm holding Ethan's hand because I want to be holding it, and...

I can do it.

I know I can.

~ end ~


End file.
